


Coming Down

by nobleyes



Category: Elementary (TV)
Genre: F/F, Light BDSM, Orgasm Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-15
Updated: 2015-12-15
Packaged: 2018-05-06 22:01:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5432357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nobleyes/pseuds/nobleyes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Jamie's mind gets too overworked, there's only one person she can turn to. Joan helps bring her down in the best way possible.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coming Down

**Author's Note:**

> This was a very old anon prompt I got on Tumblr. I've been in a funk with my main Joaniarty story and thought this might help me get back in the groove. To all of those who follow my other story, [I'm Your Cold Sweat](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1348819/chapters/2814025), I know it's been long but chapter 9 IS being typed up today. This is not beta'd so any and all mistakes are mine (and feel free to point them out!)

The street smells like wet pavement and stale cigarettes and Jamie’s mind is loud.

She stands at the front door of the brownstone, clutching a duffel bag in her right hand. The night air is warm and muggy, sticking her shirt to her back and her hair to her forehead. She exhales heavily and knocks on the door three times, just loud enough. Her head is swimming and her nerves are on edge, every gust of wind and crunching of leaves causing a ripple of annoyance to flow through her.

This isn’t the first time she’s found herself at this place and in this condition. The first few times, she barged right inside. The last time, Joan gave her a stern look and told her that was unacceptable and she was to knock and wait like a decent human being. So here she stands, waiting, with tense muscles and a clenched jaw.

She switches her bag to her left hand and is about to knock again when the door swings open and Joan peeks out at her. She takes one long look at Jamie before stepping aside and nodding for her to enter. Jamie lets out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding.

The women don’t chat. Jamie simply follows Joan up the stairs and into her bedroom. She drops her bag by the bed and waits for Joan to lock the door before she pulls her shirt over her head.

“Do you want to talk?” Joan asks, as she always does.

Jamie shakes her head, as she always does.

The older woman simply nods and crosses the distance between them to help rid Jamie of her clothes. They move quickly and ignore the way the blonde twitches at every touch. Once she’s stripped entirely, Jamie takes a moment to close her eyes. She swallows thickly and wills her body to relax, letting the day’s stress roll off her in waves. When she’s ready, she lies back on the bed and waits.

She needs this. She needs it so badly it hurts. Every gentle touch of Joan’s fingers on her skin reminds her just how much she’s holding in. How she’s barely hanging on. She bites her lip to silence herself as Joan strokes her thighs and the night begins.

 

* * *

 

Jamie can find no point of gravity. She twists and turns, caught between drowning and floating. Her body hums with energy, nerves alert and muscles clenching. She licks her lips and tastes salt. Jamie knows she’s drenched with sweat. She can feel it as she arches her back and shifts her head on the pillow, the fabric clinging to her skin.

“Please,” she whispers hoarsely.

Blind behind velvet, she reaches for contact, grabbing helplessly at thin air. A warm hand wraps around her wrist and sets it above her head. Jamie almost moans in relief as hot breath hits her neck.

“You need the restraints today,” Joan’s voice is music to her ears and Jamie nods vigorously. Joan always knows exactly what she needs. Every touch is deliberate and designed to push Jamie to her very limits. Joan will hold her there, keep her steady and balanced before allowing her to drop into oblivion.

Jamie focuses on her breathing as Joan wraps her wrists and ankles and ties her to the bedposts. Jamie tugs on them and hums contentedly as she finds them to her liking. It is the last step in her relinquishing control. Finally, her mind begins to quiet its constant roar.

“Thank you,” she exhales heavily.

Warm hands splay on her thighs and she gasps, immediately spreading her legs in need. Joan squeezes lightly and runs one hand up until it reaches slick heat. A feather-light touch and Jamie bites her lip in agony. The pad of a thumb skirts over her swollen, sensitive clit and a throaty moan escapes her.

Joan slides one finger in easily and Jamie is quickly ready for more. She squirms in her restraints, attempting to grind down onto Joan’s hand. The woman allows her the movement and inserts a second digit. Jamie’s heart pounds in her chest as spikes of pleasure hit her. A soft kiss is pressed to her inner thigh and she curses under her breath.

“Close?” Joan rasps.

Jamie swallows thickly. Damn that voice and the full-body shudder it triggers. She nods, grinding her hips harder. Joan picks up her pace, thrusting her fingers in and out of Jamie until her toes curl and she inhales sharply. Right on the edge, body wound tight and needing just a second more, Joan pulls away.

“Fuck!” Jamie growls, body slumping into sweat-soaked sheets. Joan has denied her three times now and the deep frustration has begun to set in. The sound of her own panting fills her ears as her body twitches and relaxes muscle by muscle.

Joan is at her side, her steady hand a balm on Jamie’s fevered cheek. It’s not quite a caress but it’s enough that Jamie jerks her head away.

“Don’t.”

A heavy silence. Jamie squeezes her eyes shut behind her blindfold, fighting against thoughts building in her mind, demanding her attention. She can feel Joan’s hand hovering by her face and it burns her. She feels the shift in the air as Joan reaches forward to touch her again.

“Joan,” she warns at the first brush of fingertips.

“Stop trying to control everything,” Joan replies but she steps away all the same, leaving Jamie to her mind.

The throbbing between her legs remains but her body manages to settle down after several minutes. Joan returns and immediately sets to work, taking her apart all over again. Her movements are faster, a roughness in her usually gentle touch. Jamie digs her teeth into her bottom lip as she’s brought higher and higher.

The affection from before flashes through her mind but a skilled brush of her g-spot chases it away. Jamie keens, fingernails digging into her palms as she struggles to hold on. Joan crooks her fingers, flicks her thumb across Jamie’s clit, and presses teeth to her thigh.

“Oh God,” Jamie groans. She trembles beneath Joan’s hands, a time bomb ticking closer to detonation. The bed shifts suddenly as Joan changes position, crowding over Jamie’s body while continuing the deep thrusts of her fingers.

Jamie can feel her getting closer. She can hear her uneven breaths and smell her shampoo. Her body tenses and she struggles against her bonds.

“Shh.” Joan synchronously adds another finger and presses her lips to Jamie’s temple. Jamie whimpers. There’s a knot in her gut and a heaviness in her heart. Another kiss is placed on her jawline and time slows down. Little butterflies along her skin, timed perfectly with strokes between her legs.

Joan bites down at the junction of neck and shoulder and Jamie cries out in warning. Joan pulls her hand away once more but remains pressed close. Hot, sticky breath along the shell of Jamie’s ear. A soothing hand runs down her side to rest on her hip. Jamie can’t hear over her thoughts and she quickly finds herself tugging and pleading. “Tighter please, these need to be tighter – I can’t, please.”

Joan obliges wordlessly. Unlike the previous times, she returns to Jamie’s side and continues her affections. Fingers dance along her collarbone and upper arm, leaving goosebumps in their wake. Jamie stiffens, retreating into her mind where everything is critical. Life or death, kill or be killed. She can’t stop the small choked sob that escapes her throat.

Joan stops her movements and simply asks, “Time?”

Jamie’s entire body is shaking and tears are building behind her eyelids. “Yes.” She’s ready to fall off the deep end and feel relief settle upon her like a blanket.

Joan presses two fingers into Jamie and nibbles her way down her neck. As Jamie’s breathing becomes more labored, the nibbles turn into bites and Jamie hisses at the delicate balance of pleasure and pain. Continuing down, Joan turns her attention to Jamie’s breasts. Her tongue circles a nipple before she sucks it into her mouth.

“Uhn, yes,” Jamie moans, back arching off the bed. She’s dying to dig her nails into Joan’s back, tug at her hair, and pull her closer. Instead, her restrains bite against her skin and the knot in her stomach grows. This close to the end, she’s on the edge of hysteria, anxiety flooding her body as she struggles to move and take control. Here her thoughts are the loudest and her desperation at its peak.

Joan sense this, as she always does, and she reaches up to rip Jamie’s blindfold off. Blinking furiously, Jamie scowls at her. The room is dim but she can perfectly see Joan hovering above her, face flushed and pupils blown.

“Put it back on,” Jamie seethes, turning her face away.

Joan’s fingers continue their ministrations at a faster pace. “Look at me,” she commands.

Jamie is a live wire, barely able to hear above the hum in her head. Her skin burns where it touches Joan’s and every breath feels like it will be her last. She shakes her head no.

“Look at me,” Joan’s voice goes right through her and she finds herself unable to resist.

Holding her head still, Jamie slowly drags her eyes to meet Joan’s. The older woman gives a short nod, a small praise to Jamie’s obedience. She twists her fingers and pleasure floods Jamie’s body, followed by severe frustration. Joan appears so calm and in control while Jamie fights to remain in her skin.

“Let go,” Joan murmurs with a particularly hard thrust.

Jamie wants to look away more than anything. She wants to pull free and run and hide. At least, that’s what she tells herself. In reality, Joan is only doing what has been asked of her. She’s picking Jamie up from the gutter, pulling her through a mental detox, and then throwing her back on her feet. She’s forcing her to give in for once and forget about her responsibilities. There are no criminal schemes and no people to bark orders at. There is only Joan and her impossible fingers unraveling Jamie from the inside out.

To the thunderous pound of her heart and the hushed encouragement of Joan, Jamie squeezes her eyes shut and jumps off the edge. Her mind finally goes blank and she’s free-falling, filled to the brim with intense pleasure – and relief. A slurred string of nonsense slips from her mouth, praising Joan in every way, something she’ll surely deny ever happened. Minutes seem to pass as she recovers, though it has only been a dozen or so seconds. Jamie knows this feeling won’t last long. Soon, her mind will jolt awake and resume its usual buzz. For now though, she can breathe and that’s all she needs.

Blinking wearily, she’s aware of Joan removing her restraints. Her wrists are sore in the best possible way and she can’t help the dreamy sigh that escapes. Joan is quiet as she moves around the room, gathering hastily discarded clothing and setting them at the foot of the bed. She never looks at Jamie and she closes the door behind her as she leaves.

A small smile makes its way onto Jamie’s face as she basks in the afterglow. This unassuming woman somehow has the power to do exactly what Jamie needs. No one else can quiet her mind and test her boundaries the way the detective-in-training can. And while the whole encounter may seem one-sided and cold, well, that’s all right because Jamie knows that Joan’s back is pressed to the other side of the door, waiting.

Tonight is different. Tonight, Joan pushed her further than ever before. From the way she kissed Jamie to the way she removed the blindfold. Their relationship, if you could call it that, tipped over the line in an unspoken manner. Jamie should be appalled at this. She should call the entire thing off and never again show up on Joan’s doorstep in need.

Instead, she dresses quickly, sits at the head of the bed, and calls for Joan to enter the room. It only takes a few seconds for the door to open and Joan’s wary face to appear. This is something new for both of them.

“I was thinking,” Jamie says as she reclines against the wall, “maybe I could just leave in the morning.”

Joan’s face is blank and she blinks a few times. An uncharacteristic burst of apprehension hits Jamie and she fights the urge to fidget. She’s about to get up and leave when Joan fully enters the room and closes the door. Without saying a word, she joins Jamie on the bed and sits next to her, folding her hands in her lap.

Out of her peripheral vision, Jamie sees the corner of Joan’s mouth lift and her nervousness dissolves into childlike joy. She laughs out loud, feeling a wall break down between them. She turns to Joan as she laughs, feeling more naked than an hour before. She has nothing to worry about though, as Joan joins her in the hysterics.

The room smells like chamomile and sex and Jamie’s mind is quiet.


End file.
